


The Character Building Merits of Naked Running and Excessive Skittle Consumption

by jezza



Series: A Study in Romantic Complexities [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bets, Infatuation at first sight?, Laundromat, M/M, Skittles, streaking, terrible flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 09:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19314937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jezza/pseuds/jezza
Summary: Streaking isn’t really Jisung’s idea of fun - so when he has the chance to steal some clothes, he takes it.And maybe he just got lucky that it’s Minho’s dryer he chose to open.





	The Character Building Merits of Naked Running and Excessive Skittle Consumption

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Los Méritos de Construir Carácter por Correr Desnudo y el Consumo excesivo de Skittles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20063596) by [Higelaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higelaw/pseuds/Higelaw)



> This is really just me projecting my love of laundromats so

Jisung tosses up his options. He’s got about one second to decide which dryer he’s going to ransack, because who knows when someone’s gonna walk into this laundromat and find him standing there, naked as all hell in broad daylight.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles. “Alright, eenie, meanie, miny, moe.”

He sends out a quick apology to whichever poor soul’s washing he’s about to steal, but he figures the circumstances are sufficiently extenuating.

The first thing he pulls out is a pair of boxers, which, disturbing and wrong, yes, but necessary? Definitely yes. He pulls them on quickly, trying not to think too hard about what he’s doing.

Something pink catches his eye next, so he pulls it out, and it’s a sweater, which is also a very big necessity at this current point in time. This laundromat is _breezy_.

He at least has enough foresight to take his glasses off before pulling the sweater over his head.

“Not that you don’t look cute in my clothes, but why are you stealing them?”

“Shit,” Jisung squeaks, getting caught in the top of the sweater. He tugs at it, but nothing’s moving and he’s getting increasingly conscious of his very bare stomach and the very much a stranger who’s now in the laundromat with him. “Could you just- help- yeah.”

Whoever it is that had stumbled in on what might just be Jisung’s most embarrassing moment helps him force the sweater down and over his head, and Jisung blinks uselessly up at him in the few seconds it takes him to remember his glasses.

He feels around for them on top of the washing machine and slips them on, jumping a little when the guy’s closer than he expected.

_And he’s cute – double shit._

The guy takes a step back and tilts his head to the side, almost like he’s evaluating Jisung and his fashion choices. Well, his _own_ fashion choices if his words from earlier are to be believed.

It’s the subtle smirk that plays on his lips and the almost absentminded way hair falls into his eyes that makes Jisung reconsider.

_This guy isn’t cute, he’s handsome._

And that’s ten times worse.

“For real though, why are you taking my washing?” the guy asks, eyebrow raising slowly in a way that makes Jisung fidget ever so slightly.

“Uh,” he stalls, “you see, that’s a bit of a long story, might take all the time that you don’t have, you look like a busy guy, places to be, things to do, washing to yeet out of here with.”

“Well, I would yeet off with my washing if you weren’t wearing half of it.”

Touché.

Jisung whines. “Fine. My friends and I had a bet, right? Whoever ate the least Skittles in a minute had to run naked between the colleges. I thought I’d win by a mile cause I can just shove them all in my cheeks – see look at them, they’re massive – but apparently that doesn’t count as _eating_. But I _really_ didn’t want to have to streak, my dick isn’t all that impressive; I can’t be ruining my reputation like that. And I’m still working on my abs. No spoilers. So I decided to stop off at the laundromat. And steal some clothes. Uh, your clothes, I guess. But don’t worry! I was totally gonna leave a note and return them! Maybe not this sweater though, it’s hella cute…”

Jisung is so far into his tangent that he doesn’t even notice that the guy’s collapsed with laughter until he’s done, and it’s all he can do to pat him on the back a little and hope he doesn’t choke.

“It’s… not _that_ funny, is it?”

The guy does choke. “ _Dude_. Of course it’s funny. What about any of that is _not_ funny?”

“Like, all of my misfortune.”

“Eh,” the guy shrugs, “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

“Yes,” Jisung agrees, nodding with all the sarcastic vibes he can shove into the one gesture. “I definitely have lots of opinions on the character building merits of naked running and excessive Skittle consumption.”

“Exactly.”

They both nod and hum at the same time, and it’s a little creepy how in sync they are, right down to the pitch of their obnoxious humming. It sends the guy back to the floor with laughter, and Jisung isn’t far behind him.

“I’m Minho,” the guy says when he’s caught his breath back, smiling a little as he holds out a hand.

“Jisung,” he says, reaching out to shake Minho’s hand.

“Pink’s a good colour on you,” he says suddenly, eyes flicking between the sweater and Jisung’s face.

Jisung scrunches his nose up a little. “Really? I don’t own much pink. Still going through my emo phase.”

“Maybe you should break out of it,” Minho muses, reaching out to play with the cross dangling from Jisung’s left ear. “But this is hot.”

“Thanks, did it myself.”

“You _pierced your own ear_?”

Whoops. That really wasn’t what Jisung had meant to say, but Minho is _distracting_ what with the way he stares a little too closely with those wide eyes of his.

“Yeah?”

“Damn, you really are emo,” Minho whistles.

“Can’t relate?”

“Not at all,” Minho snickers.

“Mm,” Jisung agrees, “you’re too preppy.”

“I’ll choose to take that as a compliment.”

“You do that.”  

Minho takes advantage of the slight pause to stand up and get the rest of his clothes out of the dryer. Jisung feels a little guilty – there’s some button downs in there that will have undoubtedly creased beyond hope of saving without an iron, but an emergency is an emergency.

And unfortunate streaking is most definitely an emergency.

“Help me fold my washing?”

“It’s the least I could do after I stole half of it,” Jisung giggles, pulling a shirt out of the dryer. He’s already being more than a little stalky today, so he reads the writing emblazoned across the front before folding it into a perfect square. “Dance team?”

There’s more than a little bit of admiration in his voice, he knows, but dancing is _cool_. It’s not like he can’t do it himself – he’s been to more than his fair share of dance classes over the years, but it’s always a little awe inspiring when he stumbles across someone who’s actually _a dancer_.

“Yeah,” Minho says, a little proudly, “I study dance.”

Jisung just about cries. “Damn. That’s some crazy shit.”

“Yes and no. It’s just as challenging as any other course.”

Jisung rolls his eyes. Stupid self-deprecating talented people.

“Yeah, but are you _good_?”

Minho blinks. “Yeah.”

Okay, maybe not so self-deprecating.

“Cocky, much,” Jisung mutters.

“Hey, you asked,” Minho says, “and besides, what do you study?”

“Music.”

“And are you good at it?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

Minho laughs. “And there we go. It’s okay to admit your talents. As long as you aren’t lying. Or boasting.”

“Or both.”

Minho keeps on giggling and Jisung hates how smitten he’s feeling over this guy he met literally two seconds ago. They keep on folding, Minho taking the pants and Jisung the shirts by some unspoken rule, and Jisung startles a little when Minho tugs at his sweater.  
  
“Put these on.”

He’s holding out a pair of tracksuit pants, far too long for Jisung’s little legs, and he can’t help but furrow his brow in confusion.

“Jisung, you’re not wearing any pants.”

“Oh. Right.”

He snatches the pants out of Minho’s hands and pulls them on as quickly as he can manage.

There’s a little bit of a silence; Minho just watching Jisung in amusement, and Jisung trying not to combust on the spot. He doesn’t know at what stage Minho decided he was definitely not a creep and completely harmless, but it was pretty damn early on, that much is obvious.

Jisung guesses his emo image doesn’t really come through when his clothes are off.  

“I need to go back to my friends now,” Jisung says, glancing at his phone. “They’re gonna give me so much shit for wimping out.”

“Hey,” Minho scolds, “you can do what you want with your dick. And if you’d rather not show the whole uni, then that’s fair enough.”

“Try telling that to Changbin,” Jisung sighs. “He’s strangely obsessed.”

“With your dick?”

“No, just with embarrassing me.”

“Good,” Minho says decisively, nodding a little. “I was worried I’d have some competition.”

“Wait, what?” Jisung asks, looking up from the extremely angry text he was about to send in the group chat.

“Nothing! Come on, let’s walk.”

Minho grabs Jisung’s hand in his own, his washing in the other, and they stroll together to the other end of the street. Felix and Changbin have set up camp on the bench outside the college, snacking on leftover Skittles.

Predictably, Changbin kicks up a fuss as soon as he sees them.

“Yah! Han Jisung! Why are you wearing clothes?”

“Yeah, Jisung,” Felix frowns. “At least follow the rules if you’re gonna come up with this stupid game in the first place.”

“Wait, this was _your_ idea?” Minho asks, and Jisung can just _tell_ that he’s about to lose his shit laughing again.

“Shush, that’s not important right now,” he says, then turns back to Changbin and Felix. “You said I couldn’t ask anyone for clothes. I didn’t ask.”

“You _stole_?” Felix gasps, looking positively scandalised, while Changbin looks begrudgingly impressed.  
  
“Maybe I did raise you well…” he muses, before turning his attention to Minho. “And is this the guy whose clothes you _didn’t ask_ for?”

“Maybe…” Jisung mumbles, tugging on Minho’s hand to pull him further behind his back. He’ll happily hide him from Changbin for as long as possible.

“Jisung,” Minho snickers. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, I _am_ taller than you.”

Jisung stops his foot. “Stop ganging up on me. You’re all terrible.”

Maybe he sticks out his bottom lip for good measure.

“Now if you’ll all excuse me, I have some M&Ms to go eat, because Skittles aren’t shit.”

He marches off in the direction of the stairs, but forgets that he’s still holding Minho’s hand, and just gets pulled back until his back hits Minho’s chest.

“Not so fast,” Minho teases. “Can I get your number? I wanna see your unimpressive dick.”

Jisung blushes with the fire of a thousand suns. He can _feel_ it.

“Only when my abs are ready,” he says, sticking his tongue out.

Minho smirks. “Can’t have any spoilers.”

Changbin’s practically shitting himself next to them, slapping Felix’s arm with far too much strength. Jisung turns around to glare at them, and they back off for like two seconds before starting right back up with the giggling.

Jisung sighs. He’ll take what he can get. Turning back, Minho is smiling softly at him, on the verge of laughter himself and Jisung glares.

“Shut up the lot of you,” he grumbles as he all but snatches Minho’s phone and punches in his number. “Text me soon.”

“Will do, sweetheart.”

Minho leaves with a wave, and Jisung goes to take the stairs up to his dorm, followed by Changbin’s catcalls and Felix’s _damn_ s.

“Wow, Sungie,” Changbin teases, “you went and found yourself a proper adult man. One capable of doing _laundry_.”

“God, Bin,” Jisung scowls, “don’t make it sound so dodgy.”

Changbin scoffs. “You’re the one that stole a random dude’s clothes out of a washing machine–”

Jisung slams the door in Changbin’s face, making sure the little bitch sees him stick up his middle finger just before he gets a face full of door. And if Jisung cackles all alone in his room, no one’s to know any better.

Flopping down onto his bed, he pulls Minho’s sweater tighter around himself. It really is a lovely shade of pink that he can only imagine does wondrous things to Minho’s complexion.

And evidently brings out the old lady in Jisung.

But none of that matters when his phone vibrates in the pocket of Minho’s sweatpants and he pulls it out to find a text from the man himself.

_Any chance of an advanced screening?_

Jisung squeals a little too much before rapid fire googling how to take the best shirtless selfie.

 

 


End file.
